


Double Your Pleasure, Double Your Fun

by eeyore9990



Series: Porn for Inspiration [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fucking Machines, M/M, Stilinski Twins, Stuart is a magical clone of Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:31:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2717297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles slid the rest of the way to his knees, fumbling his phone as he wheezed into it, “Stu, buddy.  Get up here now.”</p><p> </p><p>  <i>"What’s wrong?  Shit, is he dead?  Oh my god, he’s totally dead, isn’t he?"</i></p><p> </p><p>"No, shut up.  Just… you need to get up here and see this.  If he kills me first, at least one of us will have died happy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspirational porn (part the first) for itsagameioftenplay!! Congratulations on reaching your first checkpoint, bb!

Stiles tripped over his own fucking feet, only managing not to face plant on the hardwood floor of Derek’s bedroom by virtue of the doorjamb being in reach. He slid the rest of the way to his knees, fumbling his phone as he wheezed into it, “Stu, buddy. Get up here now.”

_"What’s wrong? Shit, is he dead? Oh my god, he’s totally dead, isn’t he?"_

"No, shut up. Just… you need to get up here and see this. If he kills me first, at least one of us will have died happy." And then, because he was an asshole, Stiles ended the call. 

But he couldn’t really be bothered to care if his twin — his magical doppelganger, really — was pissed off because Stiles had managed to stumble onto his every goddamn fantasy playing itself out in real life. Right in front of him.

He had no idea how he’d managed to do it, to be honest. Derek should have heard him coming from a mile away and had time to put on his serial killer face again before Stiles so much as entered the building. But no. No, that was not what he did.

When Stiles had entered the loft, he’d heard the mechanical whine and, curious, followed it up the circular stairs to the top floor and then into Derek’s room, where he’d seen the vision that had sent him to his knees. And from his knees he was face to face with Derek, watching the way Derek’s face went slack with pleasure every other second, eyebrows wrinkling in between.

Not even attempting to regain his footing, Stiles crawled across the space between them, needing to _see_. There was a huge, mechanical arm attached to a solid-looking base, and the arm was set to piston back and forth, driving the dildo screwed to the end of the arm into Derek over and over.

And Derek was just _taking_ it. Was on his hands and knees, whole body swaying with every powerful thrust of the mechanical arm. His face was red — with exertion, or embarrassment, or simple lust, Stiles couldn’t tell… maybe it was all three — and sweat dripped from his hairline, sliding down his cheek and neck and wetting the hair on his chest. He was completely naked, his big, muscular body on full display for Stiles. When Derek lifted his chin, Stiles could see down his body to his darkly flushed, swaying dick, and his mouth went dry before flooding with spit. 

_God_ , he wanted. He wanted _so bad_.

"Derek," he whispered, unable to stop himself. 

Derek just stared back, eyes all glassy and shot with arousal, their impossible color nearly swallowed up with black. His mouth dropped open, lips nearly as red as his cock, and it looked like he was going to say something, but the dildo plowed into him again and he just moaned throatily instead.

"Holy _fuck_ ,” Stiles heard from behind him and couldn’t hold back a wicked grin as he turned to see Stuart hanging weakly from the doorjamb — magical copy or not, it was still startling sometimes to see his every reaction play out from a third party perspective. 

"Right?"

Stuart stumbled forward, somehow managing to keep his feet where Stiles hadn’t, and was cupping Derek’s face, thumb brushing Derek’s bottom lip. “Derek?” he asked, voice all dark and husky but still gentle, like he was afraid Derek would bolt. 

It was a legitimate fear, okay?

"God," Stuart was mumbling, stepping around Derek and running one hand over his bowed, sweaty back. "Look at you. Jesus, Derek, _look at you._ ”

Stiles crawled closer, putting his lips against Derek’s ear to whisper, “I want to taste you. Can I?” 

Derek whined, a lost sound that went straight to Stiles’ dick. Stuart’s too, if the way he was suddenly cupping himself through his jeans was any indication.

"Please, Derek," Stiles sighed, brushing his lips over Derek’s scruffy jaw, dipping his head to lick just underneath it. "Please let me suck you off."

"God!" Derek groaned, fine tremors running through him. "Stiles, shit—"

And bolts of something beyond the horizon of simple arousal shot through Stiles, because ever since that fateful day when the pack had clashed with a witch in the woods, Derek was the only one who could tell the difference between Stiles and Stuart. Something about that, about Derek knowing him that well, charged Stiles up like a goddamn battery on overdrive.

"Tell me no," Stiles murmured into Derek’s sweaty skin, sucking on his Adam’s apple.

"Fuck," Derek hissed, arching his neck to put it more firmly in Stiles’ mouth. " _Please_.”

The wrecked sound of Derek’s voice made Stiles have to stop, have to reach down and squeeze his cock through his jeans, moaning softly at the touch of his own hand. And then he was crawling under Derek, down on his elbows as he got closer to the beautiful dick slapping against Derek’s belly with every rocking thrust of the fucking machine.

He watched it for a few seconds until he got the timing right and then he closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and stretched out his tongue.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Itsagameioftenplay, you hit your goal! Congratulations, bb. You did it!! Have your well-deserved porn!

The first taste of Derek on his tongue made Stiles moan. It was delicious, savory and meaty and _thick_ , and the scent of Derek here wound through his nostrils, enhancing the experience. With every thrust of the machine into Derek's ass, his hips rocked forward, shoving his dick into Stiles' gaping mouth. It made Derek bump along Stiles' tongue and hit the roof of his mouth before the mechanical whine signaled the peak of the machine's thrust and Derek was dragged back, just a bit, with it. Tilting his head, Stiles chased Derek's dick with just his tongue, lapping at the head before the next thrust forced him to open wide again. 

Above him, he could still hear Derek, every exhale a needy whine or a broken moan. And Stuart was there too, his voice husky as he told Derek, in detail, how amazing he looked. 

"God, Derek," he was saying, and Stiles had to grab himself because he could feel the cloth of Stuart's jeans brushing his arm, which meant Stuart was _right there_ , getting an up close view of where the machine was relentlessly plowing into Derek's ass. "Look at you," Stuart breathed, and there came the shushing sound of skin sliding over skin. 

Stiles moaned, imagining it. Imagining Stuart smoothing his hands over Derek's ass, spreading his cheeks wide, maybe running his fingers around Derek's red, thinly stretched rim as the dildo attachment rocked in and out. 

There was a low, wet sound, and Derek shouted, sounding gut-punched. 

"God, sorry," Stuart said, his voice wrecked, sounding like he was _squeezing_ each word out of a too-tight throat. "I just… I had to taste you. I had to…" 

Stiles gasped, had to pull off Derek's dick then, had to curl over on himself and push his hand against his dick _hard_ to keep from just coming in his pants. And then he scrambled around, got up on his knees, took Derek's balls into his mouth, nose bumping against Stuart's chin when Stuart ducked down to swipe his tongue along Derek's taint and then drag it along Derek's rim. 

"God!" Derek shouted, and his big body bowed, trembling and shaking. He whispered their names over and over, until they meshed together, until he was just stuttering "Stu-st-st" in his delirium. 

Stiles was so busy soaking up every sound Derek made that it didn't register to him that the whirring of the machine was slowing down until it finally stopped with a little mechanical grinding noise. He stopped bathing Derek's balls with his tongue then, pulled off to look at the machine, slightly bleary-eyed, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. But then he saw the cord in Stuart's hand, the plug end dangling from it. 

"I want to," Stuart said, pushing the machine back gently. "Please, Derek, I _need_ to--" 

"Don't stop," Derek bit out. "God, just… anything. But don't stop. I need it. Please let me--" 

Stiles slid out from under Derek, circled around to his head, and kissed the words right off his lips. "Don't beg," he whispered into Derek's mouth. "You never have to beg." 

Derek came off his knees, wrapped his arms around Stiles, and then made a broken noise and fell forward, knocking Stiles backward. Derek's kiss was voracious, wet and sloppy as those noises kept coming, his hands fisting in Stiles' hair and tugging in time to Stiles' heartbeat. Pulling back, he buried his head in Stiles' neck, a sound like a sob punching out of him, and Stiles craned his neck, trying to see what Stuart was doing. 

He expected to see Stuart fucking into Derek, to be perfectly honest. What he saw instead was just the top half of Stuart's face, his eyes closed in bliss as he ate Derek's ass out, entire head moving in his eagerness. 

"Oh god," Stiles gasped, hips snapping up at the sight. He wanted… he didn't even know. He wanted to be down there, eating Derek too. He wanted to be here, kissing and sucking on Derek's mouth. He wanted to fuck Derek and be fucked by Derek. He wanted to take Derek as far down his throat is was physically possible. He wanted… _everything_. 

And suddenly he realized… he didn't have to choose. He _could have_ everything. All he had to do was organize things a bit. 

"Derek," he whispered, running his hand down Derek's back soothingly, then dipping down to slide two fingers along his crack, moaning softly when he felt both the drenched heat of Derek's hole and the rub of Stuart's tongue _at the same time_. "Derek, can you tell me what you want?" he asked, rocking his hips up again, trying to get them close enough to provide a little friction against Derek's dick. 

Derek just shook his head, pushed beyond words, sucking and licking and biting along the column of Stiles' throat. 

"Okay," Stiles said. "Okay, I've got some suggestions. You just let me know which one you like." Clearing his throat, Stiles had to bite his lip, needing the sharp pain to clear his head a little. He considered their relative positions and threw out the first idea that popped in his head. "Stuart fucks you while you fuck me." 

"Yes, yes, yes," Derek moaned, even as Stuart flashed a thumbs up in agreement. 

Unable to keep the smile off his face, Stiles pinched Derek's side and said, "You don't have to say yes to the very first thing. We also have a fucking machine over there and--" 

"I get that," Stuart said, finally joining the conversation. "I want that thing in my ass. Just the thought of it, of it going from Derek to me, it's… I want that." 

"You get fucked, you fuck Derek, Derek fucks me…" Stiles sighed, pouting slightly. "Someone better make it up to me later." 

"Wanna fuck you," Derek mumbled into his throat. "Wanna fuck you and flip you over and taste myself inside you." 

"Well. Okay, then. Two minute break for removal of clothes and application of lube?" 

Stuart clapped his hands together, shouting, "Break!" 

Reluctantly, Stiles wriggled out from under Derek, missing his weight as soon as it was gone. It only took Stiles about ten seconds to shuck his clothes, and his fingers were dripping with lube less than a heartbeat later. Derek crawled back over him, braced on his hands and knees, face flushed and wrecked. 

"I wanna watch." His eyes were bright, breathing ragged as it traveled past his parted lips. "Wanna watch you sink your fingers into your ass. Wanna watch you work yourself open for me. Wanna--" 

"Yeah," Stiles groaned, sinking one finger into himself, dick throbbing just from Derek's words. "Watch me." 

"Stuart," Derek called. "Get over here." 

Stuart rolled onto the floor, bumping shoulders with Stiles. They took a moment to share wild, breathless grins, then they were plunging their fingers into themselves in tandem, opening themselves quickly and efficiently. Stiles had been playing with his ass since he'd first learned of his prostate back in seventh grade. He had an assortment of toys that were specifically _for_ his ass. And since Stuart was just, well, _him_ in a carbon copy body, they both used the same technique to open themselves, stretching themselves wide in preparation for being fucked. 

But this time was different. Because this time, they had _Derek_ there, dipping his head to drag his tongue over their fingers, their rims, their dicks. Going back and forth from one to the other, pulling identical cries from them both until Stiles began to think Stuart wouldn't last long enough to fuck Derek. 

Finally, he had to call a halt to the teasing. He _wanted_ this, and he knew Stuart wanted this. He was a thousand percent certain _Derek_ wanted this too, so he started barking out orders like a battlefield general the second he and Stuart were both fucking themselves easily on three fingers. 

"Stuart, plug the machine back in. We're ready." 

"Fuck," Stuart said, voice breathless. His stomach muscles bunched as he pulled his fingers free, and then whined when Derek ducked down to taste his ass one last time. 

"Hey hey, no." Stiles gripped Derek's hair, pulling. "Don't make him come. We don't want this to be over before we've started." When Derek just snarled at him, flashing his eyes blue, Stiles snarled back. "Unless you _don't_ want him fucking you." 

Derek subsided quickly at that. Stuart scrambled away, and Stiles watched over Derek's shoulder as Stuart plugged the machine in, starting it automatically since he hadn't switched it off earlier. Instead of turning it off and lining up, Stuart just jumped in there, kneeling down and spreading his ass cheeks until the machine was nudging up against him just right. Then he shuffled back a step and dropped his head, the machine spearing straight into him with no warm up. 

Stiles gasped, ass clenching around his fingers sympathetically when Stuart groaned, low and long. "Derek," he whispered, unable to get more than that past his swollen tongue. "Go." 

Derek crawled over pushed his ass backward, _presenting_ himself beautifully to Stuart. Stuart, eyes looking a little glassy, his chest and cheeks ruddy with a blush, grabbed Derek's hips and yanked him backward, spearing him on Stuart's cock just as the machine began to fuck back into him. They both screamed then, Derek's upper body sinking to the floor as his arms went out from under him. 

"No, no, no," Stiles growled, trying to lift Derek's upper body. With Stuart's help, they got him raised up enough for Stiles to slide under him. "You've gotta fuck me," he snapped, rolling his ass backward, feeling Derek's dick slipping against his ass but not coming anywhere close to penetrating him. "Fuck me on your cock, you lazy bastard!" 

That woke Derek up, brought him back to himself. With a snarling sound, he thumbed Stiles' ass cheeks apart and dug one into Stiles' ass, like he just couldn't help himself. Then, moving with the thrusting of Stuart into _him_ , he guided Stiles closer, nudging the head of his dick up against Stiles' needy hole and, in the next breath, pulled Stiles back onto it. 

"Aaahhhhnn, fuck Derek," Stiles shouted, overwhelmed. 

"Tell me," Stuart groaned, his hand joining Derek's on Stiles' hip. "What does he…?" 

"So thick. So goddamn thick, it's… hnnngh!" 

"Yeah? God, I knew it." Stuart thrust so hard, Stiles could feel it. 

He had no idea how Stuart was doing it, because the machine was fucking along at its own pace, and the three of them were losing any concept of timing, their thrusts sloppy and uncoordinated and Stiles wanted to scream and cry at the same time because it felt so fucking _good_ and the sounds were filthy, and _Jesus_ , the scent of them all together was tantalizing as fuck but it wasn't _enough_. He needed… 

Derek's hand slid across his belly and Stiles shouted, back bowing at the new sensation. "Can you hold us up?" Derek asked, voice thready. 

"I… fuck, I don't…" 

"You have to." Derek's hand skated up across Stiles' abdomen to his chest, finding one nipple and _twisting_ it. "You have to hold us," he added, his other hand sliding _down_ , fingers teasing Stiles' swaying dick, just tracing over it. 

"Yeah, yeah. Yeah, I can. I can, just. God, Derek, please. _Please_!" 

With that promise, Derek's hand circled his dick, closing tight around it and jerking him fast and ruthless. His other hand continued pulling and pinching at Stiles' nipple. 

It was over stupidly fast after that. Stiles' orgasm punched through him, come pulsing from his dick so hard it hit the floor past his braced hands. He couldn't _breathe_ for a second it was so good, and then he felt it. Felt the way Derek's body tensed against him. Felt Derek's dick jerk in his ass, felt Derek's thrusts stutter. And then he heard Stuart cry out, a long broken mess of syllables that could mean anything. The machine, of course, just kept plowing away, until there was a great heave from behind him and Stiles collapsed forward, allowing them all to fall to the floor. 

Somehow they managed not to break anything, even their dicks, though Stiles was pretty sure he was going to have some interesting bruises later. He groaned, trying to straighten out his limbs, but was stopped by the fact that Derek's legs -- identifiable by the thick hair on them -- were tangled up with his. 

A long-fingered hand -- too much like his own to be Derek's -- dropped on his hip and Stiles tried hard to work his eyes open. 

"That was…" Stuart started to say, then seemed to lose the thought altogether. 

Stiles tried to grin, but found he lacked the muscle coordination to do so. Instead, he just grunted approvingly. 

Derek, never one for words at the best of times, somehow rolled them all so that Stiles and Stuart were splayed equally over his chest, his thundering heartbeat loud beneath their ears. 

"Perfect," Stiles sighed, finishing Stuart's thought for him.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, every fic in this series is updated as the participants reach their goals. Feel free to (nicely) cheer them toward their next goal. :D


End file.
